


Off-Site and Overtime

by NevillesGran



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Allusions to Canon-Typical Worms, Background Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Elias Is...Slightly Less Absolutely-The-Worst Than Other Times?, Gen, Martin Deserves A Break, Memory Alteration, Mind Manipulation, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21992665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevillesGran/pseuds/NevillesGran
Summary: Martin is not well at all, by the time Jane Prentiss ends her siege. Fortunately, Elias is there to look after him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Elias Bouchard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 118
Collections: The_Magnusquerade





	Off-Site and Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately before ep22. Thanks to [Nevanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna) for the beta!

It was the quiet that woke Martin. No horrible squirming at the window. No soft writhing in the walls. No knocking at the door. Just...quiet. His own breathing, and terrified heartbeat. He lay there and begged them both to quiet as well, too wary to trust the alleged reprieve.

And he was so _tired_. Maybe it was stress, maybe he’d come down with something, but just the idea of getting out of bed was exhausting. His entire body ached. He was starving but no food he could think of appealed...his hands shook, his mouth was dry, his vision swam even when he lay completely still.

And he desperately wanted to go back to work, even though he could barely move. It was the only safe place he could think of—the only safe place he’d been able to think of for days. If he could just get there, in the door, spare a token thought for the Archives but really head up the stairs, barricade himself in Elias’s office...higher had to be safer from crawling things, and maybe Elias’s was just the only office he knew up there, but it did have a sturdy oak—

Someone knocked on the door of Martin’s flat. He stopped breathing.

But it wasn’t Jane Prentiss’s gurgling coo that called, “Martin, let me in. Prentiss is gone.”

Martin nearly fell out of bed in his rush. He did fall in the living room, crawled for a few feet before he managed to stand and fumble open the door—and fell again, bonelessly, into Elias’s arms. Elias caught him with a strength that would have been surprising if Martin had noticed, if he hadn’t been busy trying to hold back a sob of relief.

“I take it I can come in, then,” Elias murmured with the barest hint of a laugh. Martin felt it more than heard it, his head against Elias’s chest. He nodded frantically and Elias nudged him backwards into the flat, closed the door with one foot and lifted Martin wholesale to carry him to the couch.

Again, Martin didn’t think it odd for a moment that his bureaucratic boss could lift him as easily as a baby. He was _safe_ ; that what mattered; Elias was _there_ , was touching him, and that was– no, he needed something more, still, desperately; he was hungry or thirsty or aching for something that he could only wait for, as Elias settled them both on the sofa. Martin halfway onto Elias’s lap. He realized dimly that he’d bitten his tongue at some point, and the blood tasted good but it wasn’t _enough_.

“Can I get you something?” Martin slurred, as some instinct kicked in. He leaned his head back against Elias’s shoulder. “To...drink. Tea...”

Elias did laugh at that. Martin felt accomplished, and could see the sharp teeth in his mouth. But everything was very dreamlike; Martin was safe, protected, _held_ , and maybe the touch was cooler than human but it wasn’t so terribly dead and _rotting._ It wasn’t crawling with worms and hissing—

“Shh, shh,” said Elias, and hugged him a little closer. “I wouldn’t have let her have you. I don’t like to share, you know.”

He pet Martin’s hair, and even the memory of Jane Prentiss seemed to fade with each touch. In another moment, his wrist was in front of Martin’s lips, blood dripping from an already-healing bite, and Martin latched onto it with an energy he hadn’t known he still had.

“Good boy,” said Elias, still petting his hair, and the warmth of it suffused Martin as brightly as the blood.

“See, you don’t have to die,” Elias continued, and pulled him more upright, until his mouth was level with Martin’s neck. “You just have to tell Jon _everything_ about your very traumatic experience...”

Martin nodded happily. Between the blood and the genuine exhaustion, he didn’t have room for anything else.

Elias smiled back. His eyes were enchantingly red and his teeth were very sharp (but still _safe_ ). 

“But first, I think I’ll take you up on that drink.”

. . .

It was the quiet that woke Martin. No horrible squirming at the window. No soft writhing in the walls. No knocking at the door. Just...quiet. His own breathing, and terrified heartbeat. He lay there and begged them both to quiet as well, too wary to trust the alleged reprieve.

But he knew, on some level, that she was gone. Maybe not permanently, but for now. He felt too good for it to be otherwise. He was definitely still going to scour the apartment three times through for worms as soon as he got up—but he actually _felt like getting up_ , as opposed to the last three days of being nearly comatose with anxious exhaustion. It was like the last two weeks had been a long, terrible nightmare, still _much_ too vivid in memory, but now at last he was awake.

And once the apartment was proved definitely clear of worms (please please please let it be clear of worms), he could go back to work! An absurd thought, when he’d certainly _earned_ time off for mental health, but...the Archives had sturdy doors and airtight storage, and...Jon. He’d want a statement, of course. For a moment, Martin let himself daydream that Jon would believe all this, would put aside the skepticism and...

Martin bolted upright and scrambled for his shoes. What if Prentiss had left because she’d gone _there_ , to the Archives? To the Institute? What if Jon was in _trouble_ ; what if Sasha and Tim—hell, the research staff, the Artifact Storage and library people, even Elias—did Elias even know about the terrible things in the statements? Did he have the least inkling that it was real? Oh god, Elias was going to die because Martin couldn’t move fast enough to go tell Jon— _Jon_ might be in _danger_ because Martin was just _cowering in his flat_ — 

(He just wanted to feel safe. He knew he’d felt safe, once upon a time, but he couldn’t remember when.)

He didn’t check the flat for worms even once on the way out.

**Author's Note:**

> Got a favorite line or moment? Suggestions for the AU? Tell me about it in the comments!


End file.
